Page 48 of Roulette Rodeo
"Shiloh." Ice-gray's voice carries a warning, but forest green—Shiloh—waves him off.
"She should know our names if she's going to be ours." He stands slowly, unfolding from the chair with predatory grace as he approaches. I watch every step, fighting to keep completely still despite how my body quakes in need for him. His prescence steals my breath, the approach and tease of closeness only making my body sing. It takes everything to stand my ground because I didn’t want to seem weak in this first encounter.
This introduction was going to make or break us.
"Hey,” he whispers that greeting like he truly wants it to be just between us, giving off this impression that he’s stunned to believe he’s before me.That he truly found…and won me.“I'm Shiloh. That's Rafe." He indicates ice-gray. "Talon." Amber eyes grins wider. "And Corwin." Hazel eyes nods slightly.
"Red," I manage, though they obviously already know that.
"Is that your real name?" Rafe asks, studying me like I'm a puzzle to be solved.
I think about lying, about maintaining the fiction, but something in their eyes stops me.
These aren't men who deal in facades.
"Rowenna. Rowenna Vale. But everyone calls me Red."
"Rowenna." Shiloh tastes my name like expensive whiskey. "I like it."
He moves closer, and I have to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact. This close, his scent washes over me—cherries and bourbon, leather and smoke, everything that made me lose my mind in that closet.
"You know what you did tonight?" he asks, voice low enough that I have to strain to hear. "You declared war. Made every alpha in that casino want what's ours."
Ours.Plural.possessive.
"I didn't mean?—"
"Yes, you did." His hand comes up, fingers ghosting over my cheek without quite touching. "You knew exactly what you were doing. Coming for me, marking me, walking away like a queen among peasants."
"You started it," I breathe, caught between defiance and desire. "You kissed me first."
"And I'll kiss you last," he promises. "And every time in between."
"Bold words for someone who just met me."
His smile is slow, dangerous.
The moment our eyes lock, a live wire of heat crackles between us. I presses my teeth into my lower lip, fighting the fierce pull to fuse to him—to cling like sap, to taste him as if each breath depended on it, to escape these fractured glass walls and plunge together into whatever world awaits.
Inside, my nerves erupt into a riot of butterflies, wings brushing against my ribs. His scent swirls around me and for an instant, I savors every molecule of the air—until his next wordsdrift in like distant thunder, garbled and thin despite the close space.
My bottom lip pouts, and he arches a brow, curiosity igniting in his gaze.
I try to speak, but my thoughts slog through molasses.
What…?
The others’ anxious faces hover at the edge of my vision, their murmurs flickering in and out of focus as if time itself has thickened.
The vial…fuck…fuck, fuck, fuck…
The small glass vial—its crimson liquid flecked with sediment. I lifts my hand up, each millimeter costing precious seconds. Across the table, the three Alphas turn to question Shiloh,perhaps blaming some glitch in their newly claimed swan,but Shiloh’s eyes never waver.
Emerald fire, unrelenting, searching her soul for truth.
Fumbling, she pinches her thumb and forefinger to the vial’s size and tips her hand back. A tremor shatters her fingers; her mind slows to a crawl, her body weighted by invisible chains. Seconds tick like hours.
He leans forward, voice a heard-but-unheard murmur.
